


So it has been said...

by Instantiator



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-14 18:42:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Instantiator/pseuds/Instantiator
Summary: This is a post season 8 finale fic. I am kind of heartbroken. But I am trying to see if I can create a canon compliant version that will still work with my ship. Please don't comment if you hate the ship. We are in enough pain as it is, thank you very much. The first chapter will hopefully contain some hints about where I plan to go with this. There is a time jump in the first chapter. A BIG one.





	1. The Lecture

** Location: The Citadel, 430 A.C. **

The venerable Archmaester was waiting for the room to fill up. This was a difficult class. He still felt that the decision to allow women to enter the Citadel as students was a terrible one. Already they had started facing the problem of male and female students cavorting in forbidden ways. What was next? The way things were going it may not be too long before women were allowed entry to the conclave itself! Imagine that. A woman as the leading authority on a subject! An  But he was powerless to stop it. There were far too many young members of the conclave (well young for the conclave anyhow) and they had new ideas. He decided to give a final proofread to the lecture he would read out to the class today:

"The topic we will discuss today relates to a very confusing period at the end of wars that followed the demise of Robert I Baratheon, prior to the enthronement of Brandon I Stark," he began. "The records from this period , especially relating to the events we will speak of today are shrouded in mystery for something that happened only a little over a century ago. Some of this is due to the paucity of eye witness sources. The destruction of King's Landing that is known to have occurred at this time destroyed numerous invaluable records. At the same time many of the events took place in the North, but once again, some events, the exact nature of which remains uncertain resulted in the depopulation of a very significant part of the North, destroying the records from there.

One may recall that this period also coincides with the North's abortive attempt to gain independence from the rest of Westeros. You know, the decade or so when Queen Sansa Stark tried to run the North as an independent kingdom. The relations between the North and the Citadel were not so strong in those days. As you may recall from last week’s lecture, this was a time of great political uncertainty and instability in the North. When many different Northern Houses started demanding their own independence from Winterfell, Queen Sansa had little choice but to try to crush these rebellions with force. But Winterfell didn’t have enough force at its disposal any more. When her appeals to Lord Arryn of the Vale and her own brother Bran the Broken went unanswered (King Bran actually sent a terse reply that “The North is no longer the business of the South”), her only choice was to offer her hand in marriage to the heir of House Manderly, thereby securing the allegiance of the richest and second most powerful Northern House. Her unsolved assassination three years after that lead to a massive fragmentation of the North. The Manderlys did try to claim Winterfell, but they were unable to claim the North. Ever since the North has been divided into several small Kingdoms with changing boundaries and alliances. This all makes getting reliable historical records from there difficult.

Furthermore, records from the Night’s Watch are also hard to acquire. It is rumored that the Lord Commander of the Watch, one Jon Snow was in fact a bastard brother of Queen Sansa and King Bran (although there is doubt on this issue). He is also rumored to have been a key player in the time period we are discussing. However, whatever the truth about him is, it may forever be shrouded in mystery. What we can ascertain is that very soon after the crowning of Bran the Broken, a very focused attempt was made all over Westeros to purge all mention of Jon Snow in all historical records. Histories mentioning him were often rewritten to remove all mention of him. What possible secret could he have hidden that such an effort to erase his name was made? There is much speculation on this and several dissertations have been written on it. There are all sorts of strange theories. Some suggesting that he was even King in the North for a while—a ridiculous proposition for any bastard. Others have gone so far as to speculate that he was indeed an heir to House Targaryen itself! We must allow for people’s tendency to romanticize everything. Perhaps we will get a chance to discuss these in later sessions. All we know for sure is that the 1000th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch (who some also claim was the 998th as well! Another absurdity) disappeared about two years after going to the Wall. When Queen Sansa found out she demanded that the Wildlings, with whom the North had surprisingly formed an alliance for a short time, be sharply questioned. The Wildlings pleaded ignorance as is to be expected. They are treacherous by nature after all. However, interestingly, they continued to insist that they didn’t know what really happened even under torture. Some gave the most implausible fables that no sane person could believe. Under pressure from her Lords, especially those closer to the Wall whose lands had been occupied by the Wildlings, Queen Sansa then had them expelled from the North and sent forces to massacre those anywhere close to the Wall. The traditional enmity between the North and the Wildlings returned to what it had always been.  

What may have happened to Jon Snow? Most Maesters believe that he must have been killed by some treacherous Wildlings and his body buried or burned. This seems most likely. As to historical sources, all we have are the strange stories given by the Wildlings themselves. These go in all directions. Some say that he went farther north than anyone ever had and never came back. Some say that he went into a cave under Weirwood tree and disappeared forever. They never seem to know where this Weirwood was, however. Some say that a dragon flew away with him. Some say that he got suicidal at the Wall and threw himself from it and scavengers ate his corpse. Some claim that a Red Priestess from Volantis visited him one day and he vanished with her. Some claim that his sister Arya Stark visited him and he left with her. Of course since the fate of Arya Stark is also unknown nothing can be said about this either. Some say that he saw a woman on the Wall one day, as in the ancient legend of the Night King and instead of returning to the Night Fort with her, left with her and still lives somewhere in the Lands of always Winter. Some say that he left the Wall on his own and asked Queen Sansa to shield him as he wanted to live among civilized people again. That the Queen agreed to shield him and provided a new identity for him under which he went to Braavos, or Volantis or one of the Free cities and lived out his life there. No one can ascertain with certainty what actually happened. Grandmaester Tarly’s records are strangely silent on his disappearance except a brief mention that “His Grace says that even he does not know the whereabouts and fate of Jon Snow.”  The Grandmaester’s records seem to have been redacted by him at some point since many pages that may have related to Jon Snow are missing or erased from his otherwise copious manuscripts. The reason for this remains mysterious as well.

Anyhow, this brings us to one of the most enigmatic people in this era. The Dragon Queen Daenerys I Targayren. Known variously as “The Queen of the Ashes,” “The Savage Queen,” “Daenerys the Vicious,” “Daenrys the Slaver,” and all manner of other titles by which history has remembered her for the wanton burning and slaughter of innocents in King’s Landing. The last daughter of the line of Aegon the Conqueror, she single handedly inflicted horrors greater than any Targaryen in history. All in an effort to regain the throne that had been taken from her family. Who was she? Just as in the case of Jon Snow, the historical sources are quite rare here. Her brutal actions in King’s Landing are well known of course. Some of the damage done by her dragon can still be seen. But how did she ever get this dragon? Some claim that she had three dragons, but this is probably an exaggeration since this is never known to have happened in Targaryen history. The story was probably concocted by her propagandists to make her seem similar to Aegon he Conqueror. It seems likely that she somehow found a dragon somewhere in Essos. She travelled over much of the continent it seems. It is known that she somehow used these dragons to gain control over Slaver’s Bay. Histories recorded from there record that she indiscriminately butchered and slaughtered both Masters and slaves there and turned the area into a living hell for the few years she was there. She was apparently able to use her great beauty to seduce sellsword leaders to her cause and they continued the her reign of oppression. The record of her immense savagery there is well known from records all over Essos and is therefore certainly reliable. The record of her great beauty is also unanimous. Both of these things are very plausible.

As her actions in King’s Landing show, butchery and savagery were clearly second nature to Daenerys I Targaryen. We also have little reason to doubt her willingness and ability to use her legendary beauty to gain the allegiance of many violent men, for why else would so many have crowded to her? It is said that she initially pretended to care for the slaves against the Masters in Slaver's Bay, to gain their allegiance. However, they were also pawns in her game to gain more power. At some juncture she was able to use the fear inspired by her dragons to gain control of the barbaric Dothraki nation and brought them, along with an army of mindless Unsullied soldiers to Westeros. These armies, as is known, were deeply involved in the destruction of King’s Landing. It was fortunate that they left soon after Daenerys I Targaryen’s own assassination (again the records are unclear as to who was responsible since no body was ever found; some have even stated that they saw her alive in Braavos many years later, but this makes little sense). Lord Tyrion Lannsiter, who was hand of the King at that time (yes the same one who was executed along with Lord Bronn of High Garden for corruption eight years later at the orders of King Bran I Stark), wrote to the Braavosi and the Traiarchs of Volantis telling them that the Dothraki were sailing back to Essos. The Free cities rapidly assembled their fleets to intercept and destroy the Dothraki at sea. The Dothraki, obviously, had no experience of naval warfare, and the Free cities were only too happy to annihilate forever the Dothraki threat that had plagued them for centuries. Many Dothraki had already died in Daenerys’ Northern campaign. The rest met their demise here. The Dothraki Sea was left empty.

We do have some stories about Daenerys related by Grandmaester Tarly, but they are often so severely negative that it is hard to give much credence to them despite the fact that the Grandmaester is generally a reliable source of information. It is said that the Dragon Queen had inflicted horrors on him personally. This makes the stories recorded by him somewhat suspect and most Maesters researching this era have tended to put them aside.

This finally brings us to the dragon that Daenerys used to attack King’s Landing. In the years since he has been seen flying over both land and sea. Mostly in Essos, sometimes in Westeros. It is not clear where its lair is. Sometimes it has ben known to attack someone sheep. Dragons do not normally attack humans unless provoked and humans rarely dare to provoke him. He may live for another century for all we know.

All right, any questions?”

The class had filled up now. So the Archmaester stood up to deliver his talk…


	2. The Red Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the last chapter and this chapter provide the set up for the main story. As you will see, I have tried to incorporate much of the mythology of the ASOIAF universe that I actually intend to use.

The Red Lady

It was clearly autumn now. This had been long summer. Much like the one in which she had been born. But even longer. Oldtown was a good place to be for a long winter. The city was secure. House Hightower continued to be excellent Stewards of the ancient city and kept it well fed and well defended. The primary threat in the past had been from Iron Born pirates. But now the Iron Islands were no more. A massive wave had seen to that. Maesters thought it was a natural phenomenon. But isn’t nature based on a repetition of phenomena? They knew little regarding it of course. Maesters always thought they knew more than they did. Just like the pretentious Archmaester who had just finished his lecture about an era he knew little about. But Kaneeza knew what had really happened back then. She also knew that what had happened to the Iron Islands had been far more sinister. The Hammer of the Waters had been invoked on Pyke, just like it had once been invoked on the arm of Dorne thousands of years ago and had split Essos and Westeros forever. But who had done it? The legends said that the Children of the Forest had invoked it in the Dawn Age. Were any of them still around? Or had men done it? It had been decades, but the mystery persisted. _Some suspected that it was the Hightowers who had done it_. Sorcery was not unknown to them after all. But Kaneeza doubted it. When the Children had cast that mighty spell, they had sacrificed hundreds of men as a blood sacrifice to make it work. There was no way the Hightowers could have done that and not be noticed by anyone else. Nonetheless this question was not her most immediate concern.

She had come to the Citadel to learn. Just as she had gone all over the world to learn. From Asshai to Yi Ti, and from Qarth to Oldtown. She had travelled, and she had learned. From time to time, when needed, she would put on the robes and recite the ancient chants to the Lord of Light. But preaching or praying had never been her forte. Instead she had learned about history. About magic. About sorcery and prophecy. Kaneeza had accumulated a vast amount of knowledge on these topics. It was one of the gifts of the Lord of Light she supposed. The burning living ruby at her neck gave her the strength, the power, and the beauty of her youth. It was a talent that the Undying Warlocks of Qarth had never mastered. Eve though they too had conquered aging. But only in a crude way. It had given her the ability to change her appearance into whatever she wished—a most useful talent. As long as she wore it, all effects of age were nullified. There were, indeed, priests and priestesses in Volantis, in Qohor, and in Asshai who had lived with it for several centuries. Most people knew enough not to dare to harass a priestess of the Lord of Light. Their reputation for sorcery was widely known and feared, even in this land that clung to the Seven.

She had also come to the Citadel to steal. To steal information. On cities and their construction. On the properties of materials used in making houses. On the use of wildfire and other vile concoctions that had been developed and used as instruments of death. On sieges and walls. On how to kill wyverns and dragons. She had heard of the Citadel’s conspiracy to bring an end to dragons of course. She wondered how far it was true? She knew that the disgraced Maester Qyburn had actually managed to restore his standing with the Citadel when he was Cersei Lannister’s Hand by offering the Conclave of the Citadel a chance to kill the last dragons in the world. The Citadel had been only too happy with the offer and had helped him create the huge and highly accurate Scorpions that been designed by him. It was interesting how the Archmaesters rarely mentioned these unsavory aspects of their history in their lectures. It wouldn’t do to ruin the image of the Citadel as a completely apolitical force after all, wouldn’t it? They did not like magic. It was not so easy for them to understand with their methods of study. It was not open to their control. So, they crafted a history that mentioned it as little as possible. Expressing an erudite skepticism wherever history showed them that magic had been at work. And they had won. At least in Westeros. Even in Essos many no longer believed the old stories. A thoroughly natural world is what all people of reason were expected to believe in now. A world that was thoroughly unready for the great evil that even now was preparing to make its way down from the North of Westeros. For ancient forces, long dormant had finally stirred. The Northerners foolishly thought they had beaten them back—no mention of the foreign Queen who had come to help them of course—a century ago. Fools they were. To think that what they had beaten back had been the real force that was coming for them. To think that the “Night King” was anything more than a servant. Even their own ancient legends told them that he had been a servant, not a master. And he had accomplished his mission. He had nudged the world in the right direction. The world that had come about was completely unable to resist the onslaught that was coming their way. One would think that the realization that the Lands of Always Winter were still in an eternal winter and had not reverted to their state before the Long Night would give them some idea that the true threat was yet to come! Almost all magic that would have aided the living had been wiped out or forgotten. The Maesters even continued to disbelieve the stories they heard from the North…

Kaneeza got to the Inn where she had rented rooms. Money had not been an issue for her for a long time now. Her beauty served her well here. Many were the men who had showered her with gifts, hoping to gain her favor. For a while Kaneeza had worked as a courtesan in Braavos—of course she was not pretending to be a priestess at that time. She had chosen to call herself Saera then. It only seemed appropriate. Such had been her beauty that duels were fought over a chance to spend a night in her company. There had never been any point to these, though. Kaneeza only accepted men into her company and her bed when she wanted to herself. For others, she kept giving them a false hope. They kept showering her with gifts. It was the Courtesan’s way after all. She had even visited the Sealord’s palace. What a revelation that day had been! _She wanted to go there again and again. She never wanted to go there again_. After a decade or two she had considered it wise to move on though. Best not make people too suspicious of a woman who never aged. If she returned to the city after enough time had elapsed she could claim to be her daughter, or even granddaughter, of course.

Kaneeza went to bed. It would be many months before she acquired all she needed from the Citadel. She could use the time to put all the other pieces in this game of Cyvasse into motion. And she certainly intended to. With how long she had waited, patience was something she had learned quite well. Yet right now she felt youthful stirrings of impatience. It amused her that she could still feel them.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

There were many places she had been to that had failed to live up to their reputation. The fabled “City of Winged Men” had turned out to be one of these. All she found there were ordinary people and the story that wearing wings had once been considered fashionable there. The same could not be said for the most ancient buildings in the Patrimony of Hyrkoon though. The cities ruled by the Great Fathers where almost the entire male populations were mutilated just like the Unsullied of Astapor had been, while the women trained in the arts of war had been a revelation. Not that she could approve of such practices, of course. In both of Kayakayanaya, and Bayasabhad she had seen ancient images, paintings and sculptures that left her completely bereft and in tears. But they had also pointed her to the truth. A truth that the Great Fathers themselves had forgotten. Or perhaps never had the knowledge to decipher. And she understood why the women were the ones who did the fighting. _Why the women were their greatest weapons_. Something they themselves seemed to have lost all understanding of. But all that she had learned there had created even more questions.

It was in Yin that she had found more answers. The rulers of Yi Ti guarded their most ancient writings and rarely allowed anyone a glimpse at them. But her skills with casting shadows had allowed the Azure emperor to kill off his bitterest rival. After that he had been quite generous with sharing the records with her. A trick that Lady Melisandre had once employed to great effect once, even though her search had been misdirected. The records spoke of much. Of particular interest to her had been the stories about the Lion of Night—more like the King of the Night—for once the killers in the House of Black and White had managed to get something right, although even then barely, the Bloodstone Emperor and his betrayal of the Amethyst Empress, and most significantly the defeat of the Long Night through the actions of a woman with a monkey’ tail. She wondered what strange quirk had made that curious and unflattering legend prepetuate to such an extent.

The place she was going to now did not suffer from having an exaggerated reputation though. Asshai was every bit the city the tales had described. In fact, they had not done it justice. All manner of magic and sorcery was commonplace here. She had spent much time learning here. Older denizens of the city recognized her as the mysterious lady who wore the blue and red garments. Like everyone else she also wore a mask here.

Residences were not hard to find here since the city was huge and the population meagre. Any abandoned building could be occupied if one so desired. No one really cared unless they were occupying it first. It was here that she had first come to realize so many of the truths that had compelled her to go on her century long search. It seemed appropriate that she would have to come back here. However, this time her intentions were different.

She found a building where Priests of R’hllor were always welcome.

“How long will my lady give us the pleasure of your august company?” was the only question they were interested in knowing the answer to. In Asshai it was considered ruse to inquire any farther. It was small mercy, because if her intentions had been known they may have horrified even the ones who were used to all manner of madness and depravity. But she knew that in order to learn the full truth she needed to make this final journey…

Kaneeza spent a few weeks in Asshai before finally gathering the courage to start the walk to Stygia. On the path she saw some others who had walked down the road. Even they seemed to tremble when they realized where she was going. She could not stop now, though. She had come too far. It had to happen now. The Vale of Shadows was believed to be home to demons and dragons. Perhaps she would meet kindred spirits. Many would consider her unnatural enough now to be a demon herself, after all…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The journey to Volantis had been a quiet one. Then again, hardly anything would really move her much after what she had seen now. She did not want to spend too much time in Volantis though. It would be impossible to hide her presence from Kinvara of course. There was a certain affection that had developed between them at one point. She knew she would always be welcome to Kinvara’s home… and her bed. But she was now about to do something that it was best for Kinvara to not know. She couldn’t imagine that the High Priestess would be too understanding of her intentions. **_It does not matter. Kinvara does not get to make this choice_**. Of how she had been lying, in a way, for so long about what she intended. She would try to persuade her out of it. She would be shocked at how foolish Kaneeza had been. But it could not be avoided. She would have preferred not to have come to Volantis at all. However, some of the things she needed were not available anywhere else…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Braavos, richest and greatest city in the world. The last century and a half had been wonderful for the once secret city. It’s thousand Islands now each had magnificent buildings on top of them. Wealth and prosperity had brought more and more people of all manner of skills and ability to the city. The population was now in the millions. Even in Yi Ti the cities were not as large. She reckoned that Braavos was now almost as large Asshai. Under the capable stewardship of the Iron Bank the wealth of the city had continued to grow and grow. Saera (why not take the name again? Especially when pretending to be her own granddaughter) owned properties all over the city. Their price had also appreciated enormously. Even a small plot of land in the heart of Braavos was prohibitively expensive to any but the wealthiest now. And Saera owned many!

It was the centenary celebration of the founding of the city. In great golden letters on black silk, there was a declaration hung from the sword of the Titan of Braavos that could be seen from many leagues away. It proudly declared the first law of Braavos: There shall be no slave in Braavos. **_There would be no slaves without Braavos_** , Saera bitterly thought. For so much of the Iron Bank’s wealth depended on it funding of slavery and bondage all over the world. All justified in the name of expediency.

Normally, at any given time up to half of the population of the great city was at sea trading at any given time. But the celebrations had brought almost everyone back. The Sealord and the Iron Bank had spared no expense to make this the greatest celebration the world had ever seen. So many fireworks had been assembled that it was being said that it would be an easy matter for anyone sitting on their roof to read a book at night. So long as one was willing to read in red and orange light that is. The show would go on all night, followed by festivities all day. Sellsword companies had been hired to guard the city from the outside in case someone decided to take advantage of the city’s festive mood. However, even they were locked out of the city as the gates in massive walls that had been built around the city were firmly locked and shut.

Saera was reacquainting herself with the city. She passed by an old orphanage. It seemed to have come upon better days. She remembered when it was all broken and dilapidated. But the city’s wealth had trickled down even to its most unfortunate. There were children playing in the ground in front of it. They seemed healthy and well taken care. It almost made her cry. She had to run away. Back to the rooms she was staying in…

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Finally the day arrived. Braavos was ready to show the world the greatest celebration ever. Dingitaries from other nations had been invited to see it too. To see the wealth and power of the greatest city. Saera was also ready for the day She had rowed a boat out into the harbor to see everything from there. She wasn’t the only one to do this, but she had gone farther than most. Once the sun went down the festivities started. For the next day and night, it would be a celebration for the gods… **_yes for the gods indeed Saera thought_** …

Around the Hour of the Bat the fireworks started. And it truly was something to behold! Strands of orange and red all over the sky. Unceasing. Never ending. They went on and on. Hour after hour.  And they were right. The whole sky was constantly bright. Bright enough to read… that it if you could stop coughing and see through the blanket of smoke that continued to grow thicker as the fireworks continued to go off. Someone had really failed to think this through. But not her. She had thought everything through. The tears started to fall ** _. No it does not matter. It will not happen. It will not happen. It will not happen. It will never happen._**

She waited until the Hour of the Wolf. If anyone was going to sleep in the city that night, his would be the time for it. It would be a small mercy for them at least. And then she stood up, knowing what she had to do.  And for the first time in nearly a century, Daenerys Stormborn called upon her son to come down and take her…

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

_Before they even knew what was happening, it had already happened. The dragon swooped in from the sky and started burning specific buildings in different parts of the city. But these buildings had apparently been loaded with all manner of incendiary and explosive materials. Wildfire. Blackfire. Even worse. With enormous speed a blaze swept through the entire city. Millions of terrifying screams went up simultaneously. Only to be silenced again I the next moment. The gates that were meant to protect the city from brigands became a final prison for its inhabitants. Even the sea went ablaze. Whatever or whoever had planned this apocalypse had taken care to spare no one. And so, exactly 900 years to the day after the city founded by the slaves escaping the bondage of the dragonlords of Valyria had been founded, it met it’s fiery demise via dragonfire._

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Daenerys looked down at the dying city. From up here the lives and screams sounded so insignificant. It reminded her of that other moment… the most shameful in her previous life. But that had ben without purpose…

 ** _It did not happen. It did not happen. It did not happen_**.

It was only in the final moments before she had acted that the full force of how it had all had to happen finally hit her. How it had been foreseen. How it had been forgotten. How it had been misunderstood. But so garbled had been the translation. It had taken a century to figure it out.

She looked up at the fireworks that covered the sky.

_There will come a day after a long summer **when the stars bleed** and the cold breath of Darkness falls heavy on the world._

 

She looked down at the sea.

_When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone._

_In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him._

No they had got it just about right. But then wrong. Azor Ahai was to forge the most terrible weapon from the heart of a loving wife. And he had indeed done so. That was the sad inevitability of it. That was part of what Stygai and Yi Ti had taught her. But it was the rest that none of them had gotten right. And confused with Azor Ahai. Except the fools in Kayakayanaya of course, who could not even understand their own traditions. So many titles she had assumed when she had lived as the Dragon Queen. Yet not the one that would have overshadowed them all. The one she never knew. _LIGHTBRINGER_.

As the fires died down a deathly and terrible silence descended over the boisterous city. Surely a blood sacrifice of this magnitude would be enough to do what was needed. Not only for herself but the entire world. Only two more things were needed. And they would be more painful than any. Reciting the ancient prayers, Daenerys took the poisoned dagger—it was the only poison effective on dragons—and stabbed Drogon’s skin with it lightly. It would slowly take effect. The tears would not stop as she engaged in this greatest betrayal.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As Drogon finally drew his last breaths in a 140 years, the sun had fully come up. Daenerys Stormborn stood here in the ruins of Braavos. The final sacrifice was now. Or maybe she was mad. She picked up the dagger that had taken her son’s life from him. Slowly, she felt for the ancient scr. The scar that **_he_** had given her. It had been so hard to understand what he had done. _She could not love him. **She could not stop loving him**. Not after what he had done to her. **Not after what he had done to bring her back**_. But she had finally accepted what she had done. Why he had felt forced. And she understood the greater forces at play here. And with that the love had come back. And she had waited so long…

She found the scar, and for the second time a knife was driven into the heart of Daenerys Stormborn.

When she woke up she was in Drogon’s talon and he was carrying her away. She knew she could not wipe away her earlier sin. But she had only managed to return a few moments after her original death…


	3. The Condemned Man

“Here. Take.” The bowl was slid at him. Ah. More soup. He supposed it made sense not to waste actual meat on someone who was soon going to be a bad memory. That is if anyone even bothered to remember him. Would anyone? Why would anyone? What had he accomplished in the world? Not much frankly. Well it was just as well.

He had been shifted to a different cell at least. He could see much of the city from his window. This was not really a prison room when the Red Keep still stood. He knew that much. The carpeting alone was too exquisite. Even though everything else was in dust and shambles. He supposed one benefit of giving him only soup was that they didn’t have to worry much about giving him a bucket to shit in.

One thing at least, was better. Normally the city’s stink could make an impression from miles away. They certainly didn’t now. The only smell now was residual smoke and ash. Nothing else. All hail Daenerys Targaryen, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the Realm… from its population apparently. Tyrion could think of a few more choice titles that would be appropriate to add to that headache inducing mile long list that she could hardly stop having recited everywhere. He partially blamed the Ghiscari. The Masters who had no accomplishments always had a slave herald announce how great and magnificient they were. Maybe that’s where Daenerys had picked it up. And then it appealed to her. It would to anyone with than ego that large. He doubted Daenerys would be adding the titles that were occurring to him right now though. _The killer of innocent and guilty without distinction, The murderous bitch that thought she had been sent as a deliverance from heaven itself, The burner of children, The one to burn the wheel rather than to break it_ … the beautiful but false hope. It brought tears to his eyes again. He couldn’t stop it. Whenever he thought of how Jaime and Cersei had met their end. When he thought of their unborn child. He would have been an uncle one more time. They had surrendered. Even before Cersei had escaped. But Daenerys had not accepted the surrender. What would become of House Lannister now? He was loathe to admit it, but some lessons take root to a degree that they are never unlearnt. Daenerys could never forget her House. And neither could Tyrion. His father’s lessons about this, at least, were right. He was a Lion. He would always be a Lion. Even if he had forgotten that for a while. He certainly loved Jaime. He always knew that. What surprised him, though, was how much he had still loved Cersei. He thought he hated her. He did. And she hated him. Yet time after time when she got the chance she could never bear to kill him. Not in front of her own eyes. Sure, she could send a killer after him and Jaime. But Tyrion doubted that she ever believed—in the depths of her black heart—that Bronn would actually do it. Why, otherwise, of all the killers she could have asked, go to Bronn? She even had the Iron Bank of Bravos supporting her after all. For a price like Riverrun or Highgarden even Faceless Men could have been hired to do the job. Why promise it to an unscrupulous mercenary like Bronn who had a much better relationship with both brothers? _Because in her heart she knew that this was an empty attempt. Bronn would never really do it_. And this knowledge made him cry again. Why had he never been able to have a relationship with Cersei? There had been times, rare times when it had seemed like it was possible. But he had never taken advantage of the opportunity. He had never been able to truthfully. Their dynamic of rivalry, deception, and mutual despise was too well established. It was the easy default they fell into. And he had never found in himself the ability to transcend it. Sometimes it did seem like Cersei may get beyond it. That she may need him like a real brother. But he had never managed to be that when she had needed it. And then she would immediately pull back. Full of suspicion at whatever he was doing. Always suspicious of him. Even for Joffrey’s death. _Why were you always so suspicious of me sister_? That was a question he had never been able to answer. Whenever she had let her guard down for a moment, the suspicion always quickly came back. Even when he was doing absolutely nothing. Well that was a lie. _He was never doing absolutely nothing_. But he was not doing anything against her interests. That much was true. He had known about her and Jaime’s illegitimate dalliance, of course. It was extraordinary that more people didn’t know. Jon Arryn was a fucking idiot, clearly. Fortunate for him and House Lannister… or was it? Well he supposed it would all be over soon now anyhow. Daenerys had made the whole of King’s Landing her Castamere. The Golden Lion will end up having the same fate as the Red Lion. And now…

  _In a coat of gold or a coat of red,_  
_a lion still has claws,_  
 _And mine are long and sharp, my lord,_  
 _as long and sharp as yours._

And whatever color of the coat or the length of the claws may be, they will still burn in dragonfire wouldn’t they?

 _And now the rains weep o’er their city,_ _  
and not a soul to hear._

A miserable legacy wasn’t it? That he would be the last scion of the great House Lannister that had stood since the Dawn Age? All the great names and their accomplishments. Heroes, Kings, and Lords, all the way back to Lann the Clever. And ending on him. A stunted Dwarf who was an embarrassment to them all. Oh sure there were some cadet branches and minor lords in the Westerlands, but they had done what families do. They had remained steadfastly loyal to Cersei. There was no way they were surviving. Daenerys was not even letting poor soldiers who had ben forced to join the Lannister army live. No way would she allow anyone bearing the name survive. When she said she would remove Cersei “root and stem” she may not have meant it literally. But now she certainly did…

He laughed bitterly. _If only you could see me now Father. I have helped return Aerys Targaryen’s daughter to the throne. At least he had been mad. This one is still sane. A sane monster. Far worse than a mad monster. I thought I had seen the worst version of monsters. Well live and learn. Unfortunately I won’t be doing much of either. Will we meet up in hell Father? If there is such a place he had no doubt that’s where they’d both meet. Neither of them was deserving of any better. I’ll deliver the news of our House’s final demise at the had of the Targaryens. I suppose that’ll hit you harder than a thousand crossbow bolts_.

How would death by dragonfire feel? It seemed to be over very quickly. At least that was a blessing. But how would it feel for the little time before there was little enough left of him to feel? He wondered. The Tarlys were both brave and strong men. Men of war. And yet he could still hear their miserable screams when Daenerys had burned them. Should he have seen it then? She could have had them beheaded at any point. But she had chosen the crueler option. Did she even realize how cruel it was? She didn’t burn herself after all. And then again for Varys. It was her choice of method. Like Aerys Tragaryen and his Wildfire. Daenerys Targaryen used Dragonfire. Even when there was no one around to intimidate. Cruelty was just part of her. She probably got some sadistic satisfaction from the horrible screams of those she executed. Unlike Joffrey she was better at concealing it. Or perhaps it was just a different sort of pleasure. It made her feel powerful. Especially when she had decided to class them among those who were wrong and bad. The moment that happened all of her so-called compassion and mercy left the door and no cruelty was beyond her. And of course there was never any remorse. How could a chosen savior show remorse? She had the magic to prove that she was chosen didn’t she? As did the Night King… _May we be fortunate enough to see them both meet the same fate_?... Bur he doubtful that would happen. Daenerys was too well guarded. And the only man capable of doing anything about it was too deeply in love to see what a monster she had become. Even now. He supposed it was understandable. Jon had gotten to feel and taste her in a way that Tyrion could only dream. And he had dreamed. So often. And thought about it when awake as well. It may never happen but he preferred those silent moments more than the company of any actual whores now. _I understand you now Ser Jorah… I really do…_

Tyrion tried to get some sleep. There was no bed here but the carpet was soft enough. It was better than many places he’d been in. Like the sky cells in the Eyrie. The Arryns made much of their “high as honor” ideals but their methods of torture were as bad as any other, even if different. And he wondered how many hapless fools would be dropped through the Moon Door once the new Lord of the Vale came of age? Wasn’t he already there in fact? He crossed sixteen a while back didn’t he? An unsettling thought indeed… or it would have been if he had still been Hand to Daenerys. What madness had overcome him then? He realized that she had not given the order to seize him until he confronted her and then threw away the pin she had given him in public. There were no orders to find him or capture him either. In fact he had been walking about freely. Was she actually planning to forgive him? He suspected she had been. Perhaps just a demotion from the position of Hand to something more mandane, Master of Coin perhaps. That would have solved her other problem too. With the position of Hand of the Queen vacant, it would be an easy and natural matter to raise Jon to that position. A bad choice if you asked him since Jon was not likely to be much better at it than Ned Stark had been but then again Tyrion had hardly been any good as a Hand either so he didn’t have much space to talk here. Anyhow, how else was she going to justify keeping the Warden of the North in the South and in King’s Landing when there was no more war to fight and no need for the Northern soldiers in the South any more? And he doubted that Daenerys had any intention of just sending Jon back to Winterfell. Tyrion realized that that was probably what Daenerys had in mind for him. If he had begged for forgiveness, a demotion was probably all he would have faced. Daenerys did have a hard time exacting punishment against those she had formed an attachment to. The case of Ser Jorah was obvious. Forgiven even after Daenerys had sworn to kill him. And Jon had barely even received a slap on the wrist for spilling his deadly secret to Sansa… and wasn’t that an interesting situation on its own? One he’ll never get to resolve unfortunately, but well played Lady Stark, _very, very well played indeed_ … _I should have given you your due; beautiful women will be my weakness unto death, clearly_. And _it is also why I wasn’t able to kill her myself when I was walking about freely_. A quick stab would not have been hard after all. _Rather than trying to act like Ned Stark and throwing my Hand pin away in front of everyone_ … which he had only done in disgust at Robert’s plans to murder Daenerys! Tyrion’s whole life was an irony.

It was hard to sleep with the way his mind worked. It was hard to forget what was soon about to happen to him. Or had already happened to those he loved. Did he even want to sleep? He may soon be going to an eternal sleep anyhow. Why not enjoy the little time he had left. _Yes. Enjoy being the key word here._ He could enjoy nothing if his last hours were just a severe headache due to lack of sleep mixed with anger and fear. So he would make the attempt. But how? As a child he was told to count things to distract himself so he would fall asleep. Like dogs. Or jumping dolphins. That never worked for him. No he would to distract himself with something else. Other than his soon to be proved mortality that is. What could it be?

Ah yes. Something that had bothered him for a while now. Just what exactly had been Varys’ plan? It seemed to make little sense. So the Lords find out that Jon is Aegon, and then what? Daenerys had the loyalty of the Unsullied, the remnants of the Dothraki and the only dragon. What would happen then? Did Varys think Jon would fight her for the throne? It didn’t make sense. Varys was not that stupid. That plan would never work. Nor would the lords be too eager to fight a Queen that powerful. Even knowing that there was another option. No. Something didn’t add up here. Was there another possibility? It seemed unlikely if Daenerys was alive. So the plan had to rely on Daenerys dying. But then what? Maybe, just maybe, Jon could claim Drogon. But that still didn’t get him her armies. And why would Jon even do this? He did not seem interested in the throne… Unless… Unless… oh yes. That was possible. If Daenerys could be assassinated and the blame be put on someone else, then Jon could take up the cause of avenging her! It may be possible to convince Jon of this. And Daenerys’ armies would also be willing to follow him in at least fulfilling this cause. The Dothraki would feel compelled to do so anyhow. They were Bloodriders after all. And the Unsullied would want revenge too. For the rest of the lords of Westeros, his legitimate claim, the presence of these armies, and the recent fate of King’s landing would be enough reason to accept him as King. Especially if the Unsullied, Dothraki, and Jon could be made to see anyone who did not join them as their enemies and hence allies to Daenerys’ killers. Very good. But they would also need good enemies. Put the blame on some ordinary Westerosi House and the alliance would be broken after a brief time when victory was achieved. So it had to be a greater power. There were two possibilities. Both enemies of Daenerys. Both angry at her disruption of the slave trade. Both major Essosi powers. Braavos and Volantis. The wiser approach was to blame it on a conspiracy between the two. A campaign of revenge against them could take many, many years. And unite the continent in the process. A decade or so with all these forces untied under Jon with a campaign of revenge as motivation—a campaign unlikely to succeed against these powers unless Jon indeed could manage to bond with Drogon—should be enough to cement his position on the throne. Was this your plan Varys? Tyrion supposed it could have been. At least it would be worthy of the spymaster. Although he’d never get to ask him…

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The loud noises woke him up. How long had he been a asleep? Not too long by what he could gather. What was going on. Suddenly there was a lot of activity outside. Soldiers running. Shouting. Could they be under attack? But by whom? Who would even dare?

The questions were soon answered in the negative. From the bars of his window he could see a very dejected Jon Snow being dragged and pushed… to another cell. It didn’t seem like there was a need to drag him. He was not resisting the Unsullied in any way. What was this? Had Daenerys finally decided to remove this obstacle to her rule too? No that wasn’t it. She still loved him too much. Still trusted him too much. Daenerys would probably sooner burn down the world than kill Jon. Part of him wondered if that was why King’s Landing had faced what it had faced. With another Targaryen claimant with a stronger claim, Daenerys would be forced to show that anyone daring to conspire against her would be shown no mercy. That her victory was inevitable. That she was ruthless enough to do anything. It would compel those who had rebellious ideas to bend the knee. At least out of fear. Even if they actually wanted to support someone else’s right. Combined with Jon’s unwillingness to take the throne, this may have been enough for her. The other, easier option would be to assassinate Jon. But Daenerys was more likely to assassinate the world before she would take that option. No. The Unsullied would never dare treat Jon in this manner if their Queen were still among the living. Much as they may have some disdain for Westerosi, or Northerners, or especially the Queen’s great favorite, they also knew that the Queen would have the heads of anyone who mistreated Jon. Which had an obvious corollary: Daenerys was dead. In other words the game had once again changed. Tyrion looked up to the sky—well the roof to be accurate—and thanked whatever powers had done this. Salvation may be possible once again. If he could say the right things. Politics was not the Unsullied’s forte after all. Daario Naharis had demonstrated that when he had simply managed to put Tyrion in charge of Meereen without any formal authority behind him. Tyrion would need some clever verbal trickery here. But with Daenerys dead and Missandei gone as well, he might just pull this one off.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Wake up!” he could feel the point of the spear pushing him. “Now you die for you crime against our Queen.”

So Greyworm had decided to dispense punishment as soon as possible. Which meant now was the only time he got.

“Time for me to die? But I have not even had a trial! I have not been able to justify my position in front of the Queen yet!”

“The Queen had you arrested!” Greyworm replied, “so you die.”

“The Queen didn’t order me executed! What gives you the right to do so without her orders? I was Hand of the Queen. I have to be given a trial before the Queen before the sentence is passed on me,” Tyrion responded. He could see how confusion was suddenly setting in for Greyworm. He was not used to such things. But Tyrion’s words sounded reasonable. Which is all that he needed for now. Greyworm had no knowledge of legal precedent. Which was good because that may have caused Tyrion’s demise.

“The Queen… is… dead.” Said Greyworm. “I will do justice because she was my Queen.”

Tyrion could see how hard it was for Greyworm to say this. He had to pretend to be shocked himself as well. Without this feigned surprise nothing he said next would work.

“But she wasn’t only your Queen anymore, was she Greyworm? She was the Queen of Westeros. The leaders of Westeros, the ones who bent the knee to her and accepted her as their Queen, don’t they have a right to get justice for her? Don’t they have the right to hear the case against those who were imprisoned by her? From what I know you are a small minority of her subjects. But she was Queen of Westeros. The lords who accepted her as Queen have a right to justice as you do. If the Queen is not alive for me to be tried, then they must hold my trial. They have a right to justice for _their_ Queen too. Not just the Unsullied and the Dothraki. The decision needs to be made by all of the Queen’s loyal subjects.” Fortunately for him, Greyworm had no idea that these subjects were not all so loyal. He was waiting. The words were clearly having an effect on Greyworm.

“Take him to his cell. I will write to the Queen’s subjects.”

 _Yes_. It had actually worked. There was still a chance for him to live. It was important for him not to mention Jon here. Greyworm would be less inclined to let that decision be made by the lords. But he may keep Jon alive because other subjects of the Queen had a right to justice for their Queen too. Though he doubted many would be clamoring for it. But Greyworm did not need to know that. All the better that Greyworm never really had any idea of how families and family loyalties often worked. It was, of course, important for him that as many of Jon’s allies as possible came to such a meeting. Their main interest, of course would be in saving Jon. But Tyrion’s crimes were so small compared to Jon’s that it was unlikely that Tyrion could be treated too badly if Jon were somehow given a lighter sentence than death. Now he needed the rest of the game to work out properly. Which meant Sansa’s political skills. He had underestimated them once. He would not do it again. He would now include them in his calculations. Whatever else may be the case, Sansa would try her best to save Jon from execution. Greyworm may think he was writing to Winterfell and Dorne so they could get justice for their dead Queen too, but he knew why Sansa would come. And she would no doubt try to mobilize as many allies of the North to come as well. These certainly included the Vale. And with the destruction of the Lannisters and House Frey, now widely known to be another killing by the Terrifying Lady Arya, the Tullys were starting to regain some position in the Riverlands. What about Gendry Baratheon? Daenerys had legitimized him. But he seemed to be in love with Arya Stark. Even though the status of that relationship seemed murky. He may go either way. The Prince of Dorne? No idea. Another unknown. So that’s what it came to. He had to rely, for deliverance, mainly on allies of the Starks. _My life is pure irony_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I will not write Tyrion as some sort of “voice of the writers” within the story, where he is the one who can make the “true” judgments on matters of right and wrong. This was an unrealistic role her was given in the final seasons of the series. Instead Tyrion is a man of his times, social context and history. He has his own agendas, his own biases, and even his own forms of bigotry. This should also be kept in mind for other characters.


End file.
